


We Can Be Heroes

by wedelia



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU, Shazam! (2019)
Genre: (Thad's dad is the worst), Angst, Dr. Sivana is still a villain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Or...predemption?, Redemption, Time Travel, hand-wavy explanation for time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedelia/pseuds/wedelia
Summary: Seeming to have worked up the nerve to speak, the boy asks in a rush, “Who are you?”Weird,Billy thinks. That's not a question he’s asked every day. But he guesses that most people don't run into buff men in flashy costumes on public transportation every day, either, so really, who's the more unusual one here?Still, Billy feels like messing with him. He grins, leans closer, and says, “I’m a time traveler.”Or: a run-in with a time-traveling villain sends Billy back to 1977, where he meets a teenage Thad Sivana and derails his supervillain origin story with the power of friendship.





	1. 1977

Billy is slouching awkwardly in the massive adult body that he hasn’t grown fully accustomed to yet, staring dumbstruck at a poster advertising the premiere of _Star Wars: A New Hope,_ and wondering how his life took such a bizarre turn when the subway comes to an abrupt stop. The messenger bag of the person sitting next to him—jostled by the movement—falls over, and something else falls into Billy’s lap.

A magic eight ball.

Billy grins at it. He hasn't seen one of these since he was a kid. “I should give you back to your owner, shouldn't I?”

After a shake, the response: _signs point to yes._

Billy turns and finds that the owner is a disgruntled-looking boy about his age—his actual age, not the age he looks in this body. Billy smiles and offers up the ball. “Here you go.”

He receives a mumbled, “Thanks.”

As the boy tucks the ball back into his bag, his gaze lingers on the lightning bolt across Billy’s chest with a wariness that’s tinged with something else that seems oddly like...recognition? But, no, that can't be right….

Seeming to have worked up the nerve to speak, the boy asks in a rush, “Who are you?”

 _Weird,_ Billy thinks. That's not a question he’s asked every day. But he guesses that most people don't run into buff men in flashy costumes on public transportation every day, either, so really, who's the more unusual one here?

Still, Billy feels like messing with him. He grins, leans closer, and says, “I’m a time traveler.”

The boy’s eyes widen. Then he frowns. “Don't lie. I recognize the symbol on your—um—” he waves a hand at Billy’s outfit— “uniform.” He lowers his voice so that only Billy can hear him. “Are you the champion the wizard chose?”

Billy tenses. He’s bewildered and alarmed at the idea that this kid from the ‘70s seems to be on to him. “How do you know about that?”

The kid’s eyes sparkle. “I _knew_ it!” he says, enthused. “I knew it was real. I couldn't have imagined it.”

Billy feels like he's missing something. “Imagined what?”

“The wizard,” the boy says, in a voice that bleeds _duh._

Still reeling, Billy says, “Of course.”

“I’m Thad, by the way.” The boy—Thad—stands up to get off at the next stop, and Billy mirrors him.

“Uh. Nice to meet you?” Billy doesn't know what to do with himself. Does he keep asking questions—demand to know how this person he happened to sit next to on the subway in 1970s Philly also happens to know a certain mysterious wizard who at this point in time is still dwelling in a cave somewhere? He feels like that's an understandable demand to make. Or would it be better to let this go and try to convince himself later that it was a weird dream he had?

(He's not entirely sure that last idea isn't the truth—it _had_ been fairly late in the evening when he’d confronted the time-traveling bank robber who had sent him three decades into the past. Maybe he'd dozed off somewhere between realizing he had gotten in over his head and deciding to just bide his time—ha—until the machine he had managed to snag from her was ready to take him back.)

It turns out that Billy doesn't do anything, because Thad makes the next move. When the subway doors spread, Thad meets Billy’s eyes, jerks his head in the direction of the new station outside the doors, and says with a bit of impatience, “Are you coming?”

 

Thad stares at him with undisguised curiosity. His eyes are so fixed on Billy that Billy’s half-worried he’s going to run into something while they're walking, though—fortunately for the safety of the pedestrians of Philadelphia—the residential street they're currently turning down is quiet at this time of day, its usual denizens busy with work or school or sleeping in.

Thad says, “I have so many questions.”

“I can tell you more,” Billy offers. “I guess that's only fair, since you already know about the wizard. I just don't want to do that in public.”

“Well—” Thad hesitates. “I don't know how my father will react if I bring home a strange man in a suit.”

“Oh,” Billy says, caught off guard. “Right. I haven't told you yet—I don't actually look like this, dude.”

Thad seems skeptical. He gives Billy a demonstrative once-over and then raises an eyebrow, like, _See? I just looked at you._

“No, seriously, watch.” Billy takes a step back, gives a cursory glance around the street to make sure they're alone, and shouts, “ _Shazam!”_

A bolt of lightning. Thad yelps and throws an arm out to shield his eyes, only lowering it after a few seconds pass and it seems like the brightness has subsided. His expression is an odd mix of a glare and awe when he takes in the completely different person standing in front of him.

Billy waves.

“You're my age,” Thad says, stunned.

“I know.”

“But—” Thad cuts himself off before he can launch into whatever protest that would have been. Shakes his head. Says, bitter, “Ha. That makes sense. Of course he would choose someone who is just a better version of me.”

Billy doesn't know whether to be offended or flattered. Maybe flattered.

He says, “If it makes you feel any better, I probably don’t deserve these powers, either. I was just chosen because there was a bad guy in the middle of a killing spree on the loose and the wizard was desperate.”

Thad adjusts the strap of the messenger bag around his shoulder. He’s smiling in a way that doesn't reach his eyes. “When the wizard took me to...that place,” Thad says, looking at Billy and trying to make him understand, “I was twelve-years-old, it was Christmas Day, and he told me that I was unworthy. That I could never be the champion.” He shifts his gaze to the sidewalk in front of him. “It left an impression.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, meaning it. “I wish the wizard hadn't said that to you. He was—or, uh, is, I guess—kind of a dick.”

That surprises a laugh out of Thad. “He was, wasn't he?”

“I mean, what kind of person gives a fourteen-year-old nearly unlimited superpowers with no explanation for how to use them, says the equivalent of _good luck, kid_ , and then literally disintegrates?” Billy shakes his head. “For a guy who was so picky about finding a perfect champion, he had a lot of issues.”

Thad smiles for real this time. Then he asks, curious, “So, if you’re the champion...what are you doing here?”

Billy shrugs. “Honestly, man, I have no idea what I’m doing. I managed to grab one of the time machine clock things from the super villain that brought me here, but it still has to recharge before I can use it to go back.”

Thad's intrigued. “So you weren’t kidding when you said that you're a time traveler?”

“Nope,” says Billy.

After a beat, Thad follows up with, “Can I see this time machine?”

Billy hesitates for a moment, not sure if it’s wise to trust this relative stranger with a piece of technology that he’s relying on to get home, but then shrugs and says, “Sure, why not?”

If Thad tries to steal it, Billy can always shift into his Shazam-self and chase after him, though he doubts things will come to that.

Billy had tucked the machine into one of the pockets of his jeans a while ago before transforming, because his super suit—though awesome—somehow came without pockets, so it’s right there for him to retrieve and hand over to Thad.

The time machine is a small, black metal object about the shape of a smoke detector—a flattish cylinder with a circular base and a curved top. Across that curved top is a line of flashing white numbers counting down in hours, minutes, and seconds to the time when it will be ready to take Billy back to his future. (And, yes, Billy fully plans on using the opportunity to make _Back to the Future_ jokes when he recounts this experience to Freddy.)

Thad inspects it from all angles, turning it in his hands and squinting at it as if he expects that will spook it into revealing its secrets. There's an interested glint in his eye, and he makes a few _hmm_ s. “This is incredible,” he tells Billy, glancing away from the machine for a second. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Billy grins. “Neither had I, or I would have tried harder to avoid getting hit with one.”

“Hit?” Thad raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I think these things are touch-activated,” Billy says, gesturing to the machine. “Once the numbers finish counting down it will wait for me to touch it and then take me back to where I was before it went off. At least that's what it did when I saw the person who sent me here using it.”

“Wow.” Thad looks at the machine with renewed fascination.

Billy grins. “You’re really into this stuff, huh?”

“I like science,” Thad says, quiet and a bit defensive—though he seems to brighten as he thinks about this topic. “I want to study physics, I think, if my father doesn't force me to work for the family business. You may recognize it from the future—Sivana Industries?”

“Wait,” Billy says. He feels kind of sick. “Do you mean your name is Sivana?”

_Please, please, please be a terrible coincidence._

It isn't.

“Yes,” Thad says, brow furrowing. “I’m Thaddeus Sivana. Why?”

Billy doesn't know what to say. What's the kindest way to tell someone that you know their name because in forty years they will try to kill you? He has a feeling wording it like that won't go over well.

“Remember when I said that there was a bad guy who caused the wizard to need a champion?” Billy tries.

Thad nods.

“Well.” Billy winces. “His name was Dr. Thaddeus Sivana.”

Thad blinks. And blinks some more. Finally his expression seems to fall and he says, “Oh.”

Billy feels bad for him. Because, sure, one day he will probably grow into a man who will try to kill Billy and also go after everyone he loves, but in this moment he's just a very young-looking boy registering a watered-down version of that same idea.

There's a kind of dawning horror on Thad’s face. He says, sounding stricken, “The wizard was right, then. I didn't deserve any power.”

A part of Billy wants to say _yes, you're right,_ and another part wants to fix the hurt he's just inflicted.

So he doesn't say that Thad is wrong.

Instead Billy says, “Okay, look. You haven't done any of that yet. I’m not going to judge you for things that this version of you isn't responsible for—that wouldn't be fair.”

Billy’s never been a fan of hasty judgement or denying people second chances. As someone who grew up in the foster system, he knows the goodness of being given the benefit of the doubt. Especially under these circumstances, where Thad hasn't even done the things that would cause Billy to doubt him yet.

 _I’m doing the right thing,_ Billy thinks, looking at Thad uncritically and hoping he won't be proven wrong. That showing leniency to this slightly moody teenage version of the super villain who had threatened violence to Billy and his family won’t come back to haunt him.

He swallows. When he thinks about it that way, he maybe isn’t making the most logical decision here. However—in spite of the huge red flag he should probably be paying more attention to—Billy takes note of the details before him, from the grateful incredulity in Thad’s eyes to the hesitant way he's holding his body, and is still convinced that treating Thad kindly is the right thing to do.

That doesn't mean he can't take advantage of Thad’s guilt. Billy grins and says, “You can do me a favor, though, while I’m stuck here for the day. Show me around 1977.”

 

  
First they go to the mall to get Billy a change of era-appropriate clothes, because his skinny jeans and Justice League shirt have been attracting some odd looks.

“How do I look?” Billy asks in the dressing area of the store Thad had immediately led him into. He turns around with his hands in the pockets of the denim jacket he’s layered over a flannel. “Totally Marty McFly, right?”

Thad, who’s pulling off the classically geeky look in his thick-framed glasses and brown sweater-vest, says, “Marty McWho?”

Billy laughs.

 

Then—because Billy insists—Thad takes him to the movies to see Star Wars. He even reluctantly hands over money for popcorn and soda after Billy cajoles him into it.

(“Wow, that was cheap,” Billy observes, walking back from the concession stand to give Thad his change. “Only five dollars!”

Thad looks at him like he’s crazy.

Billy won't remember until later that inflation exists.)

And Billy doesn't even mind that Thad tries (key word: tries) to pretend to be coolly unphased in contrast to Billy’s own eagerness, because he can tell that despite his posturing Thad’s just as interested in seeing this as Billy is.

When the movie has started, Billy reflects that the events of today—though unexpected and initially wholly unwelcome—have turned out surprisingly well, especially given that he's _in the year 1977_ getting to enjoy the experience of watching one of his favorite movies from childhood on the big screen as it was originally meant to be seen. It's a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. Eugene would probably kill for a chance like this.

(He probably thinks Billy hasn't noticed, but he has—Eugene’s most-worn pair of pajamas has stylized pictures of Chewbacca running down the leg, and the ornaments that he’d chosen to put up on the Vasquezes’ tree at Christmas had all been Star Wars-themed. Billy suddenly resolves to bring him back some kind of small souvenir from this trip—maybe the stubs from the tickets they had used to get in.)

So, anyway, Billy appreciates this opportunity, but he thinks his enthusiasm still might pale in comparison to Thad’s, who—when Billy glances over during one of the action scenes—looks absolutely enraptured. The bright spots of moving color on the screen make light dance across Thad’s face, and he’s staring up starry-eyed at the movie like he wants to imagine himself there, exploring the galaxy and fighting off the forces of evil.

 _How did he turn into Dr. Sivana?_ Billy wonders. The thought of it saddens him. _He's nice._

As the credits start to roll, Billy nudges Thad with his elbow. (He narrowly avoids knocking over the half-drunk Pepsi in the cup-holder of the armrest between them, but that's not a big deal, even though it causes Thad to jerk away for a second out of concern that it will be spilled on him.) Billy grins and says, “It was good, right?”

Thad schools his expression into something less enthusiastic and admits in a tone of begrudging acknowledgement, “It was alright.”

Billy takes a slurping sip out of Thad’s soda just to annoy him. “Shut up,” he says, beaming. “You liked it. I could tell.”

That coaxes a little smile out of Thad. He lifts the soda out of the cup holder, away from Billy, and says, “Maybe.”

Which Billy totally interprets as meaning _yes, I did, you are absolutely correct in this and all things._

 

By this point they are both starting to get hungry (despite the large popcorn they had shared), so Thad decides to splurge one more time and suggests going to a diner a block down from the movie theater to grab burgers.

Once they're situated in their booth, Billy asks a question that has been bothering him since this morning. “Hey, Thad...why were you on the subway today?”

Thad frowns at him. “To get from one place to another.”

Now it's Billy’s turn to frown. “Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept of transportation. I mean—why were you on the subway so early in the day?” At Thad’s guarded look, he clarifies, “I’m happy we ran into each other, dude, of course I am, but shouldn't you have been in school or something? It’s a Wednesday.”

Thad swirls a fry around in his strawberry milkshake to buy himself some time. “I know,” he says. “You're right. I just didn't want to be.”

Billy eyes him for a moment, evaluating. He decides to drop it. It’s not such an important question that finding out the answer to in would be worth making Thad uncomfortable.

Besides, Billy has skipped a fair amount of school himself. He’s familiar with some of the reasons for it: restlessness, bullying, not wanting to take a test, a general sense of ennui….

But Thad hasn't dropped it. He looks up from his milkshake and pushes his glasses back up his nose. “I don't actually have many friends at school,” he says, blunt and with a challenging edge that warns Billy against commenting. “It’s boring there, the teachers don't care if my brother and his friends decide to harass me, and—I just got tired of it. I woke up at seven, had breakfast, grabbed my bag, got on the subway...and when it got to the stop closest to my school, I didn't get off. I was planning to keep riding until the day was over.”

“Hey,” Billy says, nudging his foot against Thad’s under the table and offering a little smile. “I’m glad you did.” Then, because the mood between them has grown way too heavy, he adds, “How else would I have paid for movie tickets?”

Thad nudges Billy’s foot back. “You’re just using me for my allowance,” he accuses.

Billy grins and takes a bite of one of his french fries. “Guilty as charged.”

Their meal goes quickly from there, and soon they are standing outside the diner again. Thad fidgets a bit and offers to take Billy back to his house to wait until the time machine has hit zero and can take him back to his present.

“I’m technically not allowed to have people over,” Thad says, oddly nervous. “So we’ll have to be careful about it.”

Billy smiles. “Don't worry. I’m an expert at sneaking into places.”

 

Thad’s house is actually the top floor of an apartment building. The ride up to it in the elevator is tense—Thad has gone silent and still while Billy stands with his hands in the pockets of his new jacket, staying calm and quiet so that he doesn't disturb this cautious mood Thad is in—because there's this unspoken shared expectation that the sleek metal doors will slide open again and Thad’s father will be on the other side, glaring and ready to shout.

Billy has picked up on the signals. He knows Thad’s relationship with his dad is distant at best—he saw that in the way Thad avoided his eyes when he repeated the importance of not getting caught sneaking a friend home on the walk over and went tense as soon as they got into the elevator.

(“This elevator is the reason we live here,” Thad had said when they had pressed the button that would call it down and were standing idly in the hallway of the building’s spacious lobby waiting for it to come down. “It’s the nicest one in the city. That was important when we moved a couple years ago, because my father’s in a wheelchair now.”

Then Thad had lapsed into silence. Billy didn't ask any questions, because the elevator arrived.)

It’s a relief to both boys to find when the doors finally do open that there is nothing on the other side except a wide, empty-seeming living area. _Minimalist_ , Billy thinks, remembering the word from a magazine he read once at a dentist’s office.

Thad steps out of the elevator with a bit of trepidation, looking both ways and then ushering Billy quickly across the room—past the dark leather couch and slim black bookshelves—and toward a door that must belong to Thad’s bedroom.

It does. Soon they are safely inside of it, and Thad seems to breathe easier once the door has shut. “How long do you have left?” he asks, glancing at Billy’s bulging jacket pocket.

Billy pulls out the time machine to check. “Only minutes now.”

Thad seems to deliberate with himself over whether to say something, before starting, “Before you go, I just want you to know that I—”

“What’s that noise?”

Billy and Thad both freeze.

There are a tense few seconds as they hear the sound of wheels getting closer. Then Mr. Sivana yanks the door open. Takes in the scene in front of him. A cold fury comes over his expression when he sees Billy. His eyes seek out his son’s and he snaps, “Did I say you could have anyone over?”

Thad...well, droops is one word for it. His shoulders slump, making him look small, and he says in a similarly small voice, “No, sir.”

Billy wants to fight someone.

Thad's father, preferably.

Thad’s father, who doesn't care that Billy is standing _right there_ and proceeds to rip into his son anyway. “You ungrateful little shit,” Mr. Sivana says, forcefully, the words flung out like accusations. His hands tighten on his wheelchair like he wants to get close to Thad—to intimidate him—but is holding himself back because it’s not worth the effort. “I put a roof over your head—give you an allowance after everything you've done to me—and you have the damned nerve to break one of my _very reasonable_ rules—”

Thad’s jaw clenches. Billy observes it out of the corner of his eye, as he watches Thad’s father and Thad in turns. Billy guesses that he’s not the only one who would like to fight Mr. Sivana.

Mr. Sivana, unsatisfied with Thad’s subdued reaction, goes red in the face. “ _WELL?”_ Billy takes an instinctive step back at the sudden viciousness. “What do you have to say to me? Are you even sorry? You're probably not, are you? You’ll just do this again the minute I’m not around to watch you, because you don't care about anything but what you want—”

“I’m sorry,” Thad says, fast, in an attempt to stop the tirade.

Mr. Sivana huffs. He eyes his son with scorn and says, acerbic, “You are, are you?” He laughs a mean, humorless laugh. He glances at Billy briefly, looking at him as if he were a bug he found on the floor, and says to Thad, “I want him gone. Now. And we will be having _words_ later.”

He rolls himself out. The door slams shut behind him.

“Don’t say anything,” Thad says, immediately going on the defensive. He sits down on his bed, seeming deflated. “I know what that looked like.”

Billy moves to sit in a spot next to Thad’s on the bed. He stays silent for a long moment then says, “It looked like your dad was being an asshole. Is he always like that?”

Thad hunches in even more on himself. Some of his dark hair flops over his forehead as he nods. “It’s my fault,” he says, quiet, playing with the frayed end of his shirt-sleeve.

Billy frowns. “How is it your fault?”

Thad glances quickly over at him and then back down at the floor. He seems to be addressing a part of the floorboards when he admits, “I’m the reason he lost his legs.” Then, to elaborate: “We were driving to my grandparents’ house a couple Christmases ago and—well, I had this vision of being with the wizard. When I came back from it, I freaked out in the car. Totally lost it. It was my fault. I distracted my father while he was driving, and that led to the accident.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Thad startles.

Billy reaches out to touch his shoulder. “I’m being serious. That’s—that's so not your fault. He shouldn't have blamed you for that.”

“It’s not just him that blames me,” says Thad. “Sid does, too, and my grandfather—”

“Who cares what they think?” Billy tosses an arm around Thad, who tenses but then allows himself to relax and lean into the comfort that’s being offered. “No offense, but it sounds like your family is awful.”

Thad gives a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.”

Then his expression shifts toward frustration. He straightens up, pulling a little away from the sideways hug, and says, “I know it’s not right how they treat me, okay? It’s not fair. It’s infuriating. Sometimes it makes me so angry I just want to—to—pack my bags and leave and never look back. I wouldn't miss them. But...I have nowhere to go. And every time I see that stupid wheelchair I remember how I felt like a terrible person for causing that accident, even if I didn't technically cause it, and it makes me think that maybe they're not completely wrong. Maybe I am….”

The deceptively small time machine in Billy’s jacket pocket dings before Thad can finish that sentence. It’s ready.

“Thad,” Billy says, serious. “I’m going home. To the future. I don't know if we can ever come back here, but I think I can maybe convince my foster parents to take you in. If I can’t, we can—I don't know—sneak you into my lair or something. You’ll have a place to stay. Do you want to come with me?”

Thad takes a breath. He looks over his shoulder at the door that his father has just slammed—looks at the impersonal, uncluttered tidiness on the top of his desk and the few sheets of loose-leaf paper with half-forgotten magic symbols scribbled on them—looks at the posters on his wall depicting bold, futuristic science-fiction scenes of a better tomorrow—and finally he looks at Billy, who’s looking back at him with a kind of friendly earnestness Thad’s slightly disarmed by. And he says, “Okay. Yes.”

Billy beams at him. “Alright! Let's do this.”

Thad smiles back, tentative, and hopes he's not making a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for the young Thad from Shazam’s opening scene but didn't think adult Thad deserved a redemption arc, so here is my attempt to rescue his sympathetic younger self before he turns into a monster. It’s amazing how much of a difference friends and good parenting can make. 
> 
> I fudged the timeline a little bit. I know that the movie flashback to Thad’s past took place in 1974, but I decided to jump forward a few years because he looked possibly a bit younger than Billy there, and also what’s the point of having a character travel back to the ‘70s if he can't go see Star Wars? I wrote this fic imagining that they're both around fifteen—Thad has spent some time obsessing over the wizard, and Billy has settled into life with the Vasquezes. 
> 
> I’ve finished writing this story already and plan to post the final chapter around this time next week. 
> 
> Also, for the readers out there who are craving more canon-compliant fic: I’m working on a longish story that explores what could realistically happen after the events of the movie, but after I started writing that this idea hijacked my imagination and wouldn't let me rest until I was through with it. That other fic should be on its way.
> 
> (Sorry for the long author’s note!)


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thad's in the future. Now he has to come to terms with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter weekend! Here's this chapter a bit early as a present :)

“Hey, Billy,” Victor says, opening the door to the house after Billy rings the bell. (He had left his copy of the house key in the skinny jeans that he’d last seen lying in a shopping bag on the floor of Thad’s bedroom in 1977. Oops.) Victor’s eyes flit over to Thad, and Billy can read his curiosity at seeing this old-fashioned, Honors-student-looking person with Billy. “Who’s your friend?”

Billy braces himself for the conversation ahead. “He’s, um, he’s actually more than a friend.”

Victor pauses, taken aback. “You know Rosa and I will support you no matter what—”

Billy flushes. “Not like that!”

Thad seems to decide he's had enough of letting Billy handle things and chimes in with, “Hi, Mr. Vasquez, I’m Thaddeus. Billy and I met earlier today and he mentioned I might be able to stay here.”

_Good job, Thad,_ Billy thinks, noting with approval that Thad has already gone for the big guns and widened his eyes to help add to the illusion that he’s charming and earnest.

“Sure,” Victor says. He still doesn't get it. He probably thinks that Billy invited Thad over for a sleepover or something and is pleased to see his son making friends. “For how long? If you want to stay for the weekend, we can find an air mattress somewhere for you.”

Billy and Thad share a look. Billy says, “The thing is—and this is a long story that I can kind of explain later—” Gosh, he hopes that’s true and he will be able to come up with a satisfying explanation that doesn't a) reveal his secret identity as the Red Cyclone or b) sound so implausible that the Vasquezes send him to a psychiatrist, which Billy thinks would happen if he told them the Actual Truth. “We were wondering if Thad could stay...indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?”

“Indefinitely,” Billy repeats.

Victor gets this concerned look on his face. He tells Thad, “If you’re having problems at home, Thaddeus, I know some people who can help you sort them out.”

Thad thinks fast to come up with a story that will sound even a little believable. There aren't many. He swallows his pride and says, “That may be difficult, considering that I’m homeless.”

It’s not really a lie. He left his home forty-two years in the past; he can't exactly go back to it.

He still feels kind of guilty for telling a not-quite-truth when Victor’s eyes soften and the man says, “Oh, kiddo.”

Thad shifts his gaze to the ground. “It’s not a big deal.”

Victor clearly doesn't agree, if his frown is any indicator. He opens the door wider, steps aside so the boys can come in, and says, “I need to talk with Rosa about this. But, Thaddeus…” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

Thad wonders if there's a catch. He looks sideways at Billy, who’s smiling like things really can be this easy, and thinks _there has to be a catch._

It’s alarming that he hasn't found it yet.

 

While Victor and Rosa confer in the next room, Billy and Thad are left to linger in the living room and try not to crumble under the weight of their combined nervousness.

“Wait, I just thought of something,” Billy says. He’s a bit worried but trying (with only semi-success) to hide it. “We obviously can't tell anyone that you’re Thaddeus Sivana. What will we say when they ask for your full name?”

Thad’s reaction is calmer than Billy expected. He gets this little smirk and says, deadpan, “How do you feel about Thaddeus Skywalker?”

Billy glares.

Thad rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m joking. I was thinking about this while we were walking here. I want to take my mom’s maiden name.”

“Oh.” Billy’s relieved. “That’s a good idea.”

Thad grins. “Of course it is. I had it.”

“Ooo-kay, Thad. You’re also the one who came up with the idea to walk all the way here from the other side of the city instead of just letting me teleport us over—”

“Really? Think about how much more suspicious it would have been if there was a random bolt of lightning down the street a few seconds before we got to the door—”

“That’s not important!”

“The devil is in the details.”

“Is that one of your antiquated twentieth-century sayings?”

“It’s a common figure of speech, you big red ch—”

“Boys,” Rosa says, stepping through the arch that separates the living room from the hallway with Victor a couple steps behind. She tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “We’ve made a decision.”

Victor adds, “We’ll have to speak with a social worker about this to make sure that all of the legal things are in order, but….”

“Thaddeus.” Rosa meets his eyes and breaks into a smile. “Welcome to the family.”

And it takes a second for Thad to get over the way he feels like he has had his breath punched out of him. _Welcome to the family._ He feels like he must be glowing—there’s no way his giddiness over hearing that isn't spilling out onto his face.

It seems like he's been told no for so long—no, you’ll never be a man, no, you’re not worthy of the power of Shazam, no, you're not a good son or brother or any other noun on an endless list of them—that he can finally breathe for the first time in a long time after being given an unqualified _yes._

_I get to have this_ , Thad thinks, half-disbelieving, looking at Rosa and Victor, who stand in front of him with expressions that are so warm and sincere that Thad thinks they actually mean what they're saying.

Billy’s standing, too. He's on Thad’s right, and when he hears the news he turns to him and beams. “See? I told you it would work out.”

“Thank you,” Thad says, directing this at the adults in the room in a voice that seems remarkably quiet given that he wants to shout it from the rooftops. “Really. Thank you. I—I won't do anything to make you regret this.”

Victor gives his shoulder a reassuring pat. “I know you won't. We trust you.”

Thad’s overwhelmed. He’s happier than he remembers being in years—or ever, possibly—and maybe he should appreciate this more, should not let anything dim the lightness he feels in the moment, but at that word—trust—he gets this sinking, guilty feeling.

Victor said, _We trust you._

But he doesn't know what Thad’s older self has done. Thad himself doesn't even have a clear idea beyond what Billy has told him, which is nonetheless enough to make him afraid of what else he might find out once he starts looking into it.

And without saying it aloud, Thad wonders, ... _Should you?_

Because Thad’s not sure if he can trust himself.

 

  
Freddy does a double-take when he sees Billy, who is still in the outfit he picked up in the ‘70s when he shows Thad into the bedroom they’ll share. “What are you _wearing?_ You look like Marty McFly.”

Billy’s delighted. “That’s what I said!”

“I still don't know what you’re talking about,” Thad reminds him.

Billy gets this glint in his eye that promises a movie marathon in the near future.

“Also,” Freddy says, noticing Thad. “Dude, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Billy doesn't say anything for a moment, looking back and forth between Freddy and Thad and wondering how to break the news. Because he can't not tell Freddy the whole story.

Freddy is Billy’s manager, his best friend, his confidant. Of course they will tell him everything.

“You may want to sit down for this,” Billy says.

Freddy raises an eyebrow but sits down on his bed anyway. “Okay. I’m sitting. Please explain.”

Thad’s nerves kick in again. Because, yes, he has already been invited—miraculously—to stay here with Billy, but Billy isn't the only person in the twenty-first century. And it is suddenly becoming more and more clear that Thad will have to deal with that sooner rather than later.

That doesn't mean he has to be timid about it. Feeling kind of playful, he leans in and says, “I’m a time traveler.”

 

  
Things go well from there. More or less. Freddy is less initially understanding than Billy was—

(“You nearly killed us, man,” he tells Thad, eyes hard. “After _actually killing_ an entire conference room full of innocent people. On Christmas week. Do you understand how messed up that was?”

And Thad is hit with another massive wave of guilt over things that he hasn't done yet but still feels a heavy sense of responsibility for.)

—but he softens ever-so-slightly when Thad acts suitably contrite and offers to leave if that will make Freddy more comfortable.

(“You don't have to do that,” Freddy says, a bit reluctant. “I’m sure if Billy brought you back here you must be trustworthy.”

He looks up at Billy and narrows his eyes. “Right?”

And Thad gets this unfamiliar warm feeling when Billy tosses an arm around his shoulder and says, “Absolutely.”)

They do their best to explain what had happened in the past twenty-four hours to Freddy, who alternates between commiseration and jealousy that he wasn't there.

When Thad’s family life comes up, Billy feels a pang of sympathy. He reflects that he probably got lucky, or at least luckier than his new roommate—his mom didn't want to be his parent, but she also didn't spend years expressing that clearly and cruelly like Thad’s father had. Billy thinks that kind of constant emotional battering could make anyone lash out.

Not that cold-blooded murder falls under the same umbrella as ‘lashing out’, or even in the same zip code of it. But still.

The conversation ends with all of the boys having reached an understanding. Freddy and Billy agree to treat Thad as if he is Just Thad—no terrible-future-self-strings attached—and Thad promises that he won't do anything to betray that trust.

 

So, Thad moves in. Eugene helps fabricate a paper-trail after Billy bribes him with vintage _Star Wars_ tickets and a promise to answer his questions at a later date, which makes the process of legally making Thad a member of the family go much more smoothly.

And this time Billy—along with Freddy, who insists on going with them—is the one taking Thad to the mall to buy clothes.

“It’s part of the cultural experience,” Freddy says while they're standing on the escalator going up to the second level, like he is an authority on these things, even though he is wearing an obnoxiously bright yellow beanie and a Wonder Woman shirt, which no one not under duress would call fashionable. “I had to be here for this.”

“Sure, Freddy.” Billy looks at his friend like he wants to laugh.

Thad has been quiet since they got there, glancing around in surprise at how much is _different_ since the last time he was at a mall. Everything seems—he doesn't know how to describe it—sleeker? Louder? Faster? Less conservative? He sees a huge sign advertising women’s lingerie with a larger-than-life gray-scale photograph of a model gazing seductively at the camera next to a store called “Victoria’s Secret” and blushes so much that Freddy asks him if he's okay.

They also pass a store with an odd apple-shaped logo. It reminds Thad of a newspaper article he had read only days before he left 1977 about the Apple II “home computer”, which had amazed him. When he looks closer, it seems like even that computer has been eclipsed by streamlined technology that seems too thin and impossibly fragile to be really functional. It's like something out of _Star Trek_.

Billy has to tug on Thad’s arm to keep him from standing in front of the Apple store all afternoon.

When they walk by a store with leather jackets hanging from one of the racks, Billy side-eyes Thad with this weird look of trepidation. Thad doesn't know what the big deal is—the jackets remind him of the arrogant “cool” guys he used to roll his eyes at during school. Why would he want one of those?

The moment passes, and Thad forgets about it.

 

The rest of their siblings find out about Thad’s real identity eventually. It’s only natural that they are curious about the new guy Billy brought home, and it's not like Billy and Thad really mean to keep it a secret from anyone who already knows about the superpowered circumstances that brought them together.

Thad isn't actually there when they discover who he really is, which in hindsight he thinks he should be grateful for. When they return from their not-so-secret lair on the day that Billy lets Thad’s actual identity slip, Thad immediately notices the wary looks Pedro and Eugene send him, the strange tension in Mary’s voice when she says hi to him in the hallway, the little shrug Freddy gives him that somehow manages to seem apologetic…and Thad knows.

Then Darla comes up to him, hovering (not literally—ever since they've gained the ability to actually levitate, it’s been important to make that distinction) a couple feet away and eyeing him speculatively. The look on her face is kind, but she's still intimidating to Thad, who gets this anxious feeling at the thought that she might—justifiably—be angry at him.

After all, hadn't the adult Dr. Sivana instructed one of his terrifying Gothic sin-monsters to eat her? And that isn’t even taking into account all of the other horrible things he'd done, which Thad knows will make him cringe as he discovers them.

It would make sense for Darla to hold a grudge against him—that's what Thad would probably do in her place. So he stiffens and prepares for the deserved rebuke he’s about to receive.

Darla seems to find what she's looking for in whatever expression he's making, because she smiles and says, “I forgive you.”

And—and—it’s not the words themselves that bowl Thad over, though they certainly play a part, but the _way she says it_. Simply. Sweetly. Sincerely. Like it’s a given. Like Thad has any right to expect tolerance, let alone forgiveness.

Not for the first time since coming to the future, Thad wonders dazedly how it’s possible that he got so lucky. He feels guilty-bad-wrong, like an imposter living a life that’s meant to belong to someone else. Someone better than he is.

He also kind of feels like he's going to cry, but he blinks hard against that feeling until it has almost gone away. He’s determined not to. He can't imagine anything more embarrassing than tearing up because someone was nice to him.

Then he feels small arms wrap around him, and he looks down in shock to see Darla glance up at him and say, knowingly, “You look like you need a hug.”

And he may tear up at that. Just a little.

 

It’s a bit worrying how wholeheartedly Thad has thrown himself into the task of researching his older self. Understandable, but worrying.

It becomes almost an obsession. Thad spends countless hours pouring over police reports from December, watching all of the shaky YouTube videos of the fights he was involved in, reading think-pieces from online newspapers about the role of super villains like his older self in modern society, and combing through all that he can find of Dr. Sivana’s published research. He tries to find something—anything—that would explain how Thad’s original dream of dedicating his life to making breakthrough scientific discoveries that would benefit mankind became twisted into something so malevolent.

There are no answers. He only finds more questions. And he comes to a decision that the one chance he has to actually find what he's looking for is to speak to the man himself.

Himself.

Which leads to this:

They’re in their bedroom. Freddy and Billy are asleep, but Thad can't sleep, so he has left his air mattress to shake his first friend from this century awake in the middle of the night and ask him for a favor.

“Please, Billy,” Thad whispers, trying to keep his voice down for Freddy. He has climbed the ladder up to Billy’s half of the bunk bed and his legs dangle off the side. “I need to meet him. I want to know how I became that—that—” He grapples for a word that fits and doesn't find one.

Billy finds it for him. “Monster.”

Thad nods. A pensive expression comes over his face. “Yeah.”

And this is probably a bad idea, but...Billy would want to see his awful older self, too, if he was in Thad’s position. So he thinks about it for a moment and then says, “Okay. I’ll take you.”

Then he yawns and adds, “Later.”

 

They decide to do it on a day when Dr. Sivana has been moved from solitary confinement to a holding area with a reinforced glass wall that he can be spoken to through. Eugene has found out from hacking into the computer system of the facility in charge of containing him that Dr. Sivana’s scheduled to talk with a forensic psychologist about a series of crimes in the city that the authorities suspect he may be able to provide insight into, and he points out that this could be their chance.

(“Is it just me or is this situation very _Silence of the Lambs?”_ Freddy asks, when he hears about it.

Thad’s confused. “What?”

Freddy shudders. “You don't want to know.”)

Right as they're about to teleport, Billy says, “I’ll be waiting just outside the door to take you back.” He looks conflicted. “But I don't want to go in. I don't think I should see him.”

Thad nods. He can't fault Billy for that. He hasn't even met himself yet—and wow, that's a sentence Thad never expected to think—but he doubts that he’ll want to see Dr. Sivana either after today.

Today, though, Thad has to see him. He has to know. Even if he doesn't want to.

 

  
Thad puts a hand up to the glass and says, “So, you’re...me.”

The bald man with the scarred eye laughs. The sound of it is bitter and hollow, and it makes the hairs on Thad’s arms raise. The man inches closer on the other side—close enough so that he’s barely a foot away from where Thad is standing—and asks, sharp, “Are you disappointed?”

Thad frowns at him. Takes a small step back. Looks the bald man—who he guesses is his adult self, a sad, desperate shadow of what he hoped to become—and says, “Yes. Of course I am. I never thought I would turn into a murderer.”

Dr. Sivana eyes him with contempt. “Oh, Thad. You always were so optimistic about the world. I suppose you still don't realize that none of us are free of sin.”

Thad takes another step back.

Dr. Sivana steps even closer to the glass. The tip of his nose nearly touches it. He says, “Do you think I don't understand you? I know how angry you are at the wizard, at the world—how you’re full of envy toward that foolish champion—how you resent him for having been chosen instead of you—”

“I’m not,” Thad says, loud. “That’s not me.”

Dr. Sivana laughs his ugly laugh again. “But it is you. After all, we are the same person.”

Thad’s hands are curled so tight that he feels his nails press into the skin of his palm. “No,” he says, realizing it’s futile but saying it anyway. “We’re not. I’ll never be the person you are. I won't let myself. You’re pathetic, and cruel, and _evil_ —you killed people, and you hurt _kids—_ ”

Something in Dr. Sivana’s expression changes. He moves away from the glass, looking tired and old. “I did what I thought I had to do. You won’t understand.”

“You're right,” Thad says. There's a defiant edge to his body language—his eyes are hard, his chin juts up, and his stance is open and confident. “I won't. Because there is no reality where what you did was justifiable. Because I am a better person than you will ever be.”

“Thad.” Billy comes up behind him and touches his shoulder. His voice is hushed. “We need to go. I think the psychologist is coming back soon to talk with Dr. Sivana.”

Thad starts to turn away, but before he does he makes eye contact one last time with Dr. Sivana. Neither of them speaks. Thad feels the urge to shiver a little at the lack of warmth he finds in Dr. Sivana’s gaze and decides that he will _never_ let his eyes become that cold.

 

Thad wants to change. He _can_ change. Right? He wants that to be true. At the same time, though, there's this idea nagging at him—

“What if I have to become...that?” Thad asks, quiet, when he and Billy have returned from their trip and made their way to the bedroom they share with Freddy to give him a recap of what happened. Thad’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back leaning against the side of Freddy’s bed, and Billy has plopped down beside him to provide “moral support”—his words, not Thad’s.

Thad’s not sure if physical closeness can really be called moral support. It’s just superficial nearness, after all, isn't it? Just because someone is close to you doesn't mean they understand or sympathize with what you’re experiencing. Living for so long with his family has left Thad intimately aware of this.

But he can't deny that there's something about the idea of Billy wanting to support him—of feeling the reassuring warmth of Billy’s arm pressed up against his—that makes him feel like maybe there is something worthwhile about the concept after all.

Billy frowns. “Why would you have to become that? You're a good person, Thad. I know you wouldn't make the same mistakes that _he_ did, especially not now that you've seen the damage they've done.”

“I don't want to,” Thad says, frustrated. “But, Billy, he—he was me once. And you wouldn't have been given the wizard’s powers so soon if he—I—hadn't stolen the eye. And if you hadn't been Shazam long enough to fight the time traveler who sent you back to my time, you never would have met me, and so I would never have changed enough to not steal the eye. It’s a paradox. We probably should have thought about this before, but I don’t even know how it’s possible that I’m here right now.”

“Guys,” Freddy says, finally deciding to intervene. He raises an eyebrow at them from his seat in the desk chair a couple feet away. “I think you're missing something important.”

Billy’s brow furrows. “What? Thad’s making a good point.”

Freddy says, after pausing for dramatic effect, “ _Parallel universes._ ”

Thad seems to catch on to this idea fast, his posture straightening as he leans forward with interest, but Billy’s lost. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve read about this in comics!” Freddy says, grinning. “I think you brought Thad here from a universe adjacent to ours, but not ours, so it doesn't matter if his presence here changes the timeline.”

Thad speaks up. There's a look on his face that's painfully hopeful when he says, “Does this mean I don't have to go back?”

“Of course you don't,” Billy says. He nudges Thad’s arm with his own. “You don't think we would make you go back to a place where you're clearly miserable, do you?”

Freddy meets Thad’s eye. With a wisdom born of years of reading comic books, he says, “When he met you, Billy created a parallel universe where you realized getting revenge on the wizard wasn't worth it, and he was able to bring you from that universe to ours somehow, even though it might have made more sense for this present that we’re in now to stop existing and for Billy to be trapped in your universe.”

Billy seems concerned by this idea. “What? Why would that trap me in another universe?”

“Freddy’s right,” Thad says. “Basically, if you changed the past—my old present—you would be stuck in the parallel universe you created from that change. But because we came back to your present and nothing had changed except that now I am here, that change you made must not matter, at least not in this universe. I can be whatever I want, because my actions don't have to match this universe’s version of myself to keep the universe in tact.”

Freddy smiles and pats Thad’s shoulder. “In other words, man, you're free.”

 

Thad likes being free. Likes living with the Vasquezes. It takes a while for the kids who knew him as his older not-self to warm up to him, but Thad doesn't take that too personally—he's afraid of Dr. Sivana, too—and when they do start to include him in things his appreciation of it is so much deeper because he knows that he _earned_ it. It inspires him to keep trying his best to deserve their trust.

They never take him back to the Rock of Eternity, but Thad doesn't think he would want to go even if they offered. The thought of encountering the eye that tempted him into such terrible things—the eye that he may still be vulnerable to—causes nightmares that sometimes lead to Thad waking up in a cold sweat.

So he pretends that the time his new almost-siblings spend out fighting crime is spent instead on some other hobby and distracts himself with new hobbies of his own.

The twenty-first century offers plenty of them. Thad starts doing research into some of the scientific advances that have been made since the seventies and throws himself into a chemistry project that he’ll use to try for a prestigious scholarship at the end of the year.

He uses an app on the amazing new phone that the Vasquezes get him for his birthday—a mobile one with a small, flat screen that responds instantly when he touches it, which Billy laughs at him for being fascinated by—to learn enough Spanish to hold very fumbling conversations in it.

Sometimes he attempts to translate his interest in science into cooking meals—vegan ones, for Darla—and usually the end result is in the range of good-to-delicious, but on a couple occasions his tries have burned enough to set off the smoke alarm and cause someone to come running in with a fire extinguisher.

He starts doing chores around the house and nagging Eugene to put up his computer around bedtime (not as much as the other kids do, though, because he's still appreciative of all of the things Eugene has done for him) and helping Pedro with his physics homework, and he enjoys doing all of these things because they make him feel like he's part of a family.

It's a good feeling to have.

 

  
One day a dish slips through Thad’s soap-slick hands and shatters on the kitchen floor.

Victor rushes into the room in an instant, asking, “Hey, are you alright—?”

And Thad’s hit by this sudden overwhelming jolt of panic. He broke a dish—Victor can see it—Thad broke a probably-expensive dish that belongs to his foster father (the closest thing he's ever had to a _real_ father, but somehow eerily reminding him in this moment of his father from the past, who he imagines superimposed on top of Victor) and there are shards of it all over the floor around his feet and he’s only lived here for maybe more than a month and what if he gets kicked out to fend for himself in this new century and the dish is _broken_ and—

And Thad is on the floor with the glass, leaning up against the cabinets.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, pressing shaky hands against the sting in his eyes. He feels humiliated—frantic—there's this rapid flutter of irrational fear inside him that he wishes he didn't feel, has no logical reason to feel. A little ashamed of this overreaction but also angry at having the reaction in the first place, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

He sniffs. Takes a couple long breaths. Pulls himself up from the tile, puts the wet towel that was in his hand on the counter by the sink, and painstakingly avoids meeting Victor’s eye.

Victor, who is currently looking at him with an expression of such gentle concern that when Thad finally glances up he feels struck by it. “Hey, it’s alright,” Victor says, voice soft in a way Thad’s father’s never was. “It’s just a dish; it doesn't matter. The important thing is that you didn't get hurt.”

Thad nods. His throat suddenly feels tight. He doesn't trust himself to say anything without making a mess out of it.

Victor smiles at him—a crooked, understanding thing. “I’m going to go get a broom—I’ll be right back. Don't move, okay?” He winks, adds, “I’ll be able to tell if you do.”

A few minutes later when Rosa comes home from getting groceries, she finds Victor pulling Thad into a hug in the kitchen’s entryway.

_It’s okay,_ Victor mouths to her over Thad’s shoulder.

And...he’s not wrong. Thad’s getting there.

 

Thaddeus Sivana is still not a hero. There is a strong possibility that he never will become one—at least not in the exact way he had hoped for after meeting the wizard, since Billy had broken Shazam’s staff after his battle with Dr. Sivana, and it’s highly unlikely that Thad will acquire powers in some other way. But the point is that Thad _can_ be. A hero, that is.

He’s not chained to an inevitable fate. He has free will. He can make the choice to be a hero—not in the superpowered sense, but in the ways that matter.

Thad can turn his inventive mind toward finding a solution to one of the world’s most pressing problems. He can stand up for kids who are being picked on at school and help old ladies cross the street and volunteer his time at food banks. He can do an infinite number of good things with this new life that he has.

There is a future stretching out ahead of him, bright with potential, and if he chooses to he can latch on and see where it takes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify the time-travel thing: the machine Billy was using was programmed to go back in time and then, like a Portkey from the Harry Potter series, pull the user(s) to the place (time and dimension) where it came from. So Billy changed the past, but he and Thad returned to the canon universe anyway because that’s where/when the machine was anchored. I’m not sure how well I explained that in the fic, because the boys had no way of knowing the details of how the machine worked, but that was the idea. 
> 
> Also: I’ve gotten very attached to the idea of teenage Thad, so if any of you feel inspired to write fic with a similar premise to this or even as a continuation in the same universe, please link me to it! I’d love to read it.


End file.
